


Drawn Out

by Potato_Being



Series: Silence [10]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potato_Being/pseuds/Potato_Being
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laria glories in her methodical destruction of Veldis Sadran, the bandit leader she worked with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawn Out

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during Revenge is Cold and Cruel. It is graphic, and it is disturbing.

The knife slid along his chest, the pressure kept even, drawing thick red lines in his grey skin. He looked up at the woman, who met his eyes with a cold smile.

He couldn't feel his legs. That had been the first thing she took, smashing his own warhammer onto his feet, travelling up to his thighs. She took her time, carving out chunks of his skin, letting the ruined flesh fall from the blade.

She held the torch above him, so he knew what her intent was. He screamed as she slammed the burning head onto his palms.

_She was burned so badly, her hands were ruined-- blackened, blistering, the flesh barely clinging to the muscle and bone. He didn't heal her, as she sat crumpled against the gate. He simply watched her, as blood and pus oozed from the blistering burns on her face. She was blind, her dull, milky eyes half-closed._

His hands were gone, the palms long since burnt to a blackened, cracking crisp. Any hope of using his magic to escape was long gone, the poison she hit him with drained his magicka. 

_It seemed like hours ago that she had entered the Barrow. Hours ago that she had laid waste to his men--to the bandits that used to call her ally. They had shared mead, stories and a home in the caves and ruins of Cyrodiil, their band of marauders. And then she left. She left in the darkness, speaking of Skyrim, and untold wealth buried deep beneath their mountains. She mentioned books, and lore, and ancient walls that spoke to some. She left them, centuries ago, without a word._

She broke his nose with the hilt of her dagger.

_Her body was frail, limp, as they dragged her down, deep below one of her treasured 'Barrows'. They left her there, alone, with nothing but her alembic and her books._

She cut off his fingers. Joint by joint, the damned Daedric daggers she had used since they took her in cut through his bone like fruit. His voice was going, his strength was spent, and tears were rolling down his face as her unwavering, cruel smile never left.

_It wasn't because of her greed that they hunted her. It wasn't because she had stolen things that they followed her to Skyrim. He knew that. It was because her clan was afraid of her. They hunted her because of the poisons she hoarded, the cold, silent stares she favoured, her secret rituals and her open Daedric worship. Though they were bandits, they still were disturbed by the apathy she showed towards her clan, and the willingness to leave them behind if a more lucrative opportunity arose._

The table he lay limp on was slick with blood. His chest, criss-crossed with cuts running down to his pants, heaved as his body struggled for air. His lungs and internal organs were intact, he knew. She wanted him to stay alive until the end, when she ended it on her own terms. His heart hammered in his chest as she began cutting muscle out from his shoulders.

_They had found her in Bleak Falls Barrow, surrounded by corpses. Draugr. She congratulated them on their tenacity, and turned to walk away. They had beaten her bloody, and left her near that damned wall to die._

His tongue was on the table next to him. He could no longer scream, the only sounds being muffled gurgles as blood filled his mouth, though he was too tired to even try. She was laughing, that harsh, cruel sound that she only made when she was happy. And she was only happy when she was killing.

_He had gone back. He had returned to the Barrow, to see if she'd escaped or died. She had burned herself, trying to use her immense knowledge of magic to get out, to melt the iron gate that kept her locked in._

There was a loud bang somewhere. Footsteps. An unfamiliar voice. And she turned to the sound. As she turned back slowly, she smiled once more.

" _Veldis Sadran, you should have known that provoking me would only end in your bloodshed. May you suffer eternally in Oblivion._ "

She raised her daggers once more above his chest.

 


End file.
